001 — Frontier Part V
Valentin and Cassius force a confrontation with Atellus and discover that they were right about some things… and very wrong about others.
“That you had bargained your wife’s death for Gallica?” said Valentin coolly.
Atellus made a cutting gesture. “You have it entirely switched around.” He took a long breath. “I did enter a compact with the Papirians, but not in the way you suppose.”
Pausing, Atellus looked up at the ceiling. Ennius moved a couple of steps closer, until Valentin put his hand up.
“They came to me to offer me a deal: they would destroy the Gallican insurgency. In exchange for my wife.”
Ignatia’s head snapped up, but she didn’t speak.
Narrowing his eyes, Valentin said, “You had better start from the beginning,” he said, “and leave nothing out.”
Cassius, meanwhile, had drifted across the room to stand behind Ignatia’s chair.
“I met Ignatia as she says, in Rinnai, which is two days’ ride from the foothills of the Spinal Mountains. I brought her back to Cordiserrat as my wife, and I thought we were happy here. Despite her age, she seemed content to stay at Cordiserrat and make it her home; she didn’t bother me to take her to parties, or to Monsilys for the winter. About a year ago, I discovered she had been taking a plant that made it impossible for her to have children. It was the first of three betrayals.”
Ignatia was on her feet. “Liar!”
“I found the plant growing beside the wall. Your servant told me you took it every day in your tea.” Atellus was almost shouting.
“No,” said his wife, “I never did. How dare you mock my barrenness?” Cassius urged her to sit down, but she shrugged him away.
Atellus ignored her. “The second betrayal was her affair with the Tourisian insurgent, but that proved her undoing, because it brought a man named Magnus to me. Through the bragging of this Tourisian fool, he had learned of Ignatia’s existence. He stopped me on the street and said he had a proposition for me.”
Magnus. Cassius felt the name as if someone had buried the butt of a sword in his gut. Through sheer willpower he managed to keep his gaze straight ahead and not glance at Valentin. Out of the side of his vision, he saw Valentin’s fist clench and release.
After pausing for a couple of breaths, Atellus continued: “Having no idea what he was, I told him he might come and see me at Cordiserrat. He came the next day—the meeting my wife happened to overhear. He told me he had a request, and if I should grant it, not only would the Papirians withdraw from Gallica, they would destroy the Gallican rebels from the inside out.” As Cassius and Valentin shared a look, Atellus added, “So you see, I didn’t bargain away Gallica. I bargained for it.”
“Tell me,” Valentin’s voice gave nothing away, “what could the Papirians want so much that they would give up Gallica?”
Ignatia made a small, protesting noise in her throat.
Turning to her as if he saw her for the first time, Valentin answered his own question: “One of their own,” he said.
“Precisely.” Atellus shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Magnus told me that my wife was one of his kind, a filthy Papirian traitor who had gone on a spying mission and never returned to the mountains.”
“These are lies,” cried Ignatia. “You can’t believe him! He has admitted to planning my murder.”
Atellus spoke over her: “Of course I disbelieved him at first. I had him thrown in a cell. But he had told me that there was a way I might know the truth of his accusation.” He nodded to Cassius. “You have seen them too, my lord: the Papirian marks.”
Hearing this, Ignatia looked around wildly. Cassius laid a hand on her arm, and gestured for two guards to come and stand nearby.
“The next time I took my wife to bed, I saw it, just as he had described. And I knew.” Atellus rubbed a hand across his face.
Valentin advanced on Ignatia. She stared at him.
“Lady Ignatia, I am going to have to examine your shoulder. If you are blameless, you have nothing to fear.”
Ignatia struggled against Cassius’ hand on her arm.
Valentin looked at Cassius. “Hold her.”
With the lady resisting in earnest now, Cassius hauled her back against his chest, clamping his arms around her ribcage. He trapped her feet against the chair, and two guards held her arms. She brought her head sharply back against Cassius’ chin, and his teeth clacked together. He tasted blood. As Valentin stepped forward, she tried to kick out at him, then turned her head towards Cassius shoulder, closed her eyes, and made a whimpering noise.
Valentin quickly pushed her dress and shift aside to reveal the hollow of her shoulder, where two shiny white scars confirmed Lord Atellus’ story.
There was silence. The guards against the wall leaned forward to see what everyone was looking at. Atellus leaned back on his heels, his face carefully blank. Eventually, Valentin said, “Lady Ignatia, you understand that I must take you to Monsilys to face the Empress. If you had come to Monsilys when you first fled the Papirians—but no matter. Your fate is now out of my hands. I would advise you that meticulous cooperation with Lord Cassius and me, and with the authorities to whom we hand you in the capital, is your best course.”
Lady Ignatia still had her head pressed against Cassius shoulder. At this, she opened her eyes and regarded Valentin. “It matters not. Whatever I tell you will be out of date by the time I speak the words. When they learn what has happened, that you know the marks, they will send men out to scar every crofter in the foothills, so you cannot tell who is guilty. They will devise a new symbol by which to recognise each other. And they will move camp and destroy every path that I can mark on a map.”
This seemed to require no response. Valentin nodded to Cassius, who released Ignatia to two guards. They were instructed to take her to the courtyard and hold her, while another two were sent to her rooms to pack some belongings.
Valentin turned to Atellus. “You understand that you will still have to face the Commander-General.”
“What, no apology?” said Atellus.
Raising his eyebrows, Valentin said, “You have a case to answer too, Governor. You planned to murder your wife and conspired with Papirians to carry out the deed, to the effect of removing a potentially useful witness. Why did you not hand her over to the Empire? Why kill her?”
“I thought—” Atellus sighed, “to spare her the inquiry. Her fate is death either way. Let it be a kind death, then, I thought. Why do you think she hid herself away, tied herself to an old man: a bright, shining creature like that? She was terrified of what you would do to her.”
“When last I spoke to her,” said Cassius quietly, “the person of whom she was terrified was you, Lord Atellus.”
Atellus looked at the fireplace. “I will of course cooperate, my lords.”
Valentin, clearly choosing his words carefully, said, “And this Magnus? Where is he now? Bringing in a high-ranking Papirian would help your case.”
“I know not. Once he had my cooperation, he vanished. Presumably back to the mountains—”
They heard a shouting, then Ennius burst through the door.
“My lords,” he panted. “The prisoner has escaped her guards.”
Cassius glanced at Valentin, then both ran out of the room, following Ennius. Cassius shouted to the remaining guards to stay with Atellus. Along a hallway, down a flight of stairs, and they were in the courtyard. There were soldiers everywhere, concentrated around a locked door that appeared to lead into one of the keep’s towers.
“She went that way, Commander,” said Ennius.
“Open that door!” shouted Cassius. “Batter it down if you have to!” To Ennius he said, “Where does the door lead?”
“Onto the battlements,” said Ennius, his face grim.
“Get Atellus down here.” As Ennius sprinted off, Cassius stood back, watching the battlements that ran around the top of the keep. No sign of Ignatia. “Surround Cordiserrat,” he said to nobody in particular. “If Ignatia knows something we don’t, we’ll stop her on the other side of the wall.”
More guards dashed off to do his bidding. He realised Valentin was still standing beside him when the latter pointed and said, “There.”
Following Valentin’s hand, Cassius saw a figure edging out onto the battlements. “Ignatia,” she shouted. “What are you doing?”
She stopped and looked down at them. “I’m not coming with you to be tortured,” she said, the wind whipping her clothes around her.
“Come down,” said Cassius. “The Empress is a kinder judge than Death.”
He could barely make out Ignatia’s frown as she considered this. “You come up, Lord Cassius,” she called down. ” If you bring anyone else, then I will jump the moment the door is breached.”
“Cassius—” Valentin put his hand on Cassius’ shoulder.
“I accept your terms,” Cassius called back. Ignatia nodded, and turned her attention to the guards battering at the door.
They all heard when the wood gave, splintering with a loud crack and creating a hole big enough to climb through.
“Tell your men to step back, Lord Cassius,” said Ignatia.
Cassius nodded at the guards, who all took a few steps back.
“Further.”
Cassius nodded again, and his men retreated reluctantly to the other side of the courtyard.
“I am coming up now, Ignatia,” he said.
“Just you,” said the lady again.
“Nobody is to follow me,” said Cassius to Valentin. “Not even you, brother.”
Valentin inclined his head. “Good luck,” he said.
Cassius turned and ducked through the ruined door, into a narrow spiral staircase. Putting one hand against the stone to steady himself, he jogged up, around and around, until he stumbled into the guardroom at the top of the tower. A closed door led out to the battlements. Pausing for a moment to catch his breath, he called, “Ignatia, I am coming out. I am alone. All my men remained in the courtyard as you instructed.”
“Yes, Lord Cassius. I am ready for you,” said Ignatia. She sounded very calm. Carefully, Cassius went to the door. He took the handle and opened it quickly, diving back into the room. No attack came, and he stepped carefully out. Ignatia was standing a few feet from the door, regarding him.
“Lady,” he said. “Cease this folly.”
Ignatia went over to the parapet on the opposite side of the keep to the courtyard. “Come here,” she said when Cassius didn’t follow her. “Stand out of arm’s reach of me and look down.”
Slowly, Cassius did as instructed. He looked down at a pleasant walled garden. “What am I looking at, Ignatia?” he said.
She pushed her hair out of her eyes. “The ledge.”
The ledge? Cassius looked down again, and realised that there was indeed a narrow ledge about a man’s height down the wall from the parapet. Enough to stand on, but only barely. “I see it. What are you doing?”
Lady Ignatia ignored him, hiking her skirts up in both hands and climbing onto the parapet. “If the Papirians know you have me, my knowledge will be useless to your Empress,” she said. “But if I am dead…” She paused, “then I have something to bargain with. What do you think?”
Cassius just blinked at her.
“You should try to stop me, Lord Cassius. I am about to jump.”
“Ignatia,” someone bellowed from the courtyard. Evidently Atellus was down there now.
Cassius shouted over his shoulder, “Valentin, restrain him. Ignatia, no.” He grabbed for her too late as she stepped gracefully from the stone wall.
Throwing himself against the parapet, Cassius made a blind grab for her hand, and caught air. He squeezed his eyes closed and then opened them, searching the walled garden for a broken corpse. Instead, he saw Ignatia, balanced precariously on the ledge, back pressed against the stone. She turned her head and looked up at him. “Keep them out of the garden, Lord Cassius, until I have climbed down.”
“Climbed down—Blessed few!” Cassius shouted as Ignatia jumped neatly and spun so that she was facing the wall. Somehow, her dainty hands found purchase, and she began to shimmy down the wall.
Cassius watched her, aghast. Of course, she was—or had been—a Papirian spy. She would have found this route and twelve others within days of coming to Cordiserrat. Cassius regained some sense of his surroundings. He dashed to the other side of the wall and called down. “She has fallen into a walled garden. You will need the key.”
Valentin, the lines of his body so tense Cassius could see it from three storeys up, nodded.
“You go, and—Ennius. Don’t let Atellus see her.”
“She’s my wife!” Atellus struggled against the guards who held him.
“I seek to spare you the sight,” responded Cassius. “Mind me, Valentin. Only you and Captain Ennius should enter the garden.”
He left Valentin commanding that Atellus be taken away and the key to the garden brought, and went to the other side of the battlements. Ignatia was still making her way down the wall, finding footholds that Cassius couldn’t even see. She looked up at him once, then went back to climbing.
As he watched from the wall, Ignatia hopped down, arranged herself supine in the dirt, and closed her eyes. Valentin approached from the courtyard and worried at the padlock holding the door, before he and Ennius burst in and found Ignatia lying as if dead. They hurried over and knelt beside her. Valentin took her hands in his, then froze. Ennius looked, wide-eyed, up at Cassius. Cassius shrugged. This was Valentin’s show now.
They carried her out of Cordiserrat on a litter, covered in a sheet. Atellus, restrained, rode beside it, his face white and his eyes wide. Later that afternoon, they buried her, and if the service was rushed, it was because they still had one prisoner who required transporting to Monsilys.
The next morning, they set off home, less one troop of Imperial Guards, who had morphed into a hired security detail escorting a wealthy, veiled lady to meet a ship in Tyresine, on the northern coastline of Jovan.
Ennius had handpicked the lieutenant and troop to undertake this mission, and Cassius and Valentin had no choice but to trust to them get Ignatia safely and quietly to Monsilys.
They rode along in silence, each preoccupied with their own thoughts. Valentin and Cassius were in the middle of the company, Ennius riding beside them, and each lieutenant dispersed with their troop. Cassius kept flashing back to that moment when Ignatia had stepped off the parapet. She had raised her eyebrows as she asked him, What do you think? So calm; she had the situation well under control.
“We badly underestimated her,” Cassius said aloud.
Valentin didn’t take his eyes off the road. “Yes we did.”
“Even after we found out she was a Papirian, she had us completely fooled with that weeping woman act.”
“You know,” said Valentin. “Atellus told me that the reason she ‘never left Cordiserrat’, as she told us, was that he had her under guard and confined to the keep.”
Cassius snorted.
“The night she showed up on our doorstep, Atellus’ men picked her up an hour later on the north road. She’d found a drainage hole in Cordiserrat’s wall and gone through there. Probably had it marked out for months as an escape route.”
“Like that ledge she jumped down onto.”
Valentin nodded.
“Do you think she’ll be put to death? Atellus seemed so certain.”
“Atellus doesn’t appreciate the subtleties. She’s obviously made up her mind to cooperate. That little stunt on the wall was preserved her value as an informant, and hence, her bargaining power. Damn, but I would like to be there when Adrienne questions her.”
They both considered this prospect. Cassius thought about saying something; he could feel the name, Magnus, hanging in the air between them. But he didn’t want to bring up all that. Even after seventeen years, he didn’t quite want to talk about it.
Then Valentin slanted Cassius a look. “Do you think the Skyan Ambassador’s son is still in town?”
“I damned well hope not,” said Cassius.